


Tony and the Marshal

by TechnologicalNoiz



Series: Marshal Harbinger [9]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: now don't come crying to me when its sad, so here they are talking about sidestep, you guys wanted them to talk about sidestep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19783972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnologicalNoiz/pseuds/TechnologicalNoiz
Summary: “I am trying to protect you. All of you.” His shields are slipping an emotion you know well oozing through the cracks. Fear. What is he afraid of?“I don’t need your protection! I’m not a child!” The same words spoken from different lips. His lips. Who was trying to protect him? From what?“Careful Anthony.” The Marshal cautions. “That tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day.”





	Tony and the Marshal

“Sir,” Anthony’s voice rings clear as a bell throughout the hall. Looks like he finally decided to stop avoiding you. “Sir, I need to talk to you about something.” Determination.

“Make it quick. I’m busy.” You’ve been unable to get a break recently, the press is still swarming making a mess of ordinary situations, riling the LDPD. As if you didn’t already have enough to deal with. You hear Anthony’s footsteps quicken, glimpse him out of the corner of your eye as he matches your pace.

“It’s about Sidestep sir.”

Your step falters momentarily. “Not now.” Your voice is hard.

“Then when?” Distress, a sound that you recognise instantly. “Every time I bring it up you change the subject or you leave!”

“It’s in the past.” Then why do the ghosts still haunt you. Irritations slips through your shields. “It’s done.” Your tone is final. A lie, trying to convince yourself. You keep walking. 

“It’s not done for me!” His footsteps stop. A plea, begging you to listen. Yours involuntarily slow. You really do care about the kid. “Sidestep killed my father sir.” You already knew. You’ve known for awhile but you weren’t expecting him to tell you so readily. “At the gala all those years ago. He was one of the guards at the door.” His voice breaks. His words stop you in your tracks. Slowly you turn to face him.

“I’m so sorry.” Your eyebrows furrow. Sorry that you weren’t stronger, that you weren’t ready, that you couldn’t stop him… that you were afraid.

“It’s not your fault.” He glances down towards your leg as he quickly wipes his eyes. The scar, a searing memory of how badly you fucked up. “No one could have known that would happen. I never blamed any of you.” Anthony’s eyes narrow, jaw tense, the smallest hint of anger kept hidden below. A familiar expression. “Sidestep is the only one I blame. The one that destroyed my life when he murdered the only remaining family I had left.” His voice is harsh. You look away. You don’t want to see his anger, don’t want to be reminded of the past.

_ C’mon Danny, what are you so afraid of? _ The voice is practically a whisper in your ear, familiar and taunting. You can see the smirk, the saunter, arms crossed. You are afraid of history repeating itself, snuffing out another bright soul as this cursed city grabs it in its grimy hands, refusing to let go. You cross your arms.

“Fine,” you sneer. “We’ll talk.” You see the surprise on his face, the kid needs to get better at hiding his feelings. “But not now. I don’t have time.”

You are anxious. Of course you are. The Marshal finally agreed to talk about sidestep. Something that you thought would never happen. The hands you have clasped behind your back fidget as you as you pace. Is this really happening?

“Anthony.” The Marshal’s voice is cold, an arctic chill settling deep into your bones. You whip around to face him eyes wide. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache, jaw tense. He is already anticipating this being difficult conversation. For both of you. You don’t need to read his mind to know that. “Good evening.”

“Good evening sir.”

“What did you want to ask.” He crosses his arms leaning back against the wall. You are on a roof, secluded, away from prying eyes and ears. You turn to look out over the city. It's strangely beautiful from this high up.

“I’m... not sure.” You hesitate. You know what you need to ask but not how to phrase it. His eyes narrow, irritation radiating off of him. You look towards him again momentarily meeting his eyes.

“You had all afternoon to think about this and you don’t know what you want to ask?” He arches an eyebrow, ice cold eyes piercing through you.

“To be honest sir I partially thought you would just blow me off.” You scratch the back of your head shifting your eyes away from him. You knew he wouldn't. Did you hope he would?

He sighs, agitation growing. "Just get on with it Anthony. Stalling isn't going to help anyone." Maybe Alex was right. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe you should have just let this go. But you couldn't… 

“Who was sidestep?" The question bursts from you like water from a floodgate, the damn breaking, letting emotions run free. Despair, desperation, anxiety, fear. "Is he the reason why you– Why you're like this?” You can't look at him.

You feel his eyes on you. Piercing, wary. " _ Like this _ ?" 

"Hurt," your voice is quiet. "Unspeakably so." You remember fissure forming in his defenses. You remember overwhelming anguish threatening to suffocate you. “I felt it…" a quiet whisper, as if the sound would cause the world to crumble, "just once. Your shields slipped." An admission of guilt. "I didn't mean to."

“Look, what do you want from me.” His voice is harsh, gaze more so. 

“I want the truth!” Familiar. Why does this feel familiar? “Nobody will tell me anything. And,” you pause, something lurking on the edges of your mind, a lost dream, a memory that you are only vaguely aware of… but it’s not yours, “you were my hero.”

“I shouldn’t be.” You look back towards him, his expression one you don't recognize. His gaze shifts to look out over the city, a distant memory lurking behind his eyes. A painful one? “I’m not fit to be anybody's hero.”

“What does that even mean sir?”

“Nothing of consequence.” He reprimands.

“Please-”

“I am trying to protect you. All of you.” His shields are slipping an emotion you know well oozing through the cracks. Fear. What is he afraid of?

“I don’t need your protection! I’m not a child!” The same words spoken from different lips. His lips. Who was trying to protect him? From what?

“Careful Anthony.” The Marshal cautions. “That tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day.” His lack of answers and dismissive tone drive you over the edge.

“I need to know!" Your voice is raised. You can feel the tears stinging your eyes, threatening to roll down your face. You are angry, at him, at the world, at yourself for being such an idiot. "I need to know if you hate me…” your voice breaks, going quiet again, “because I'm a telepath.” You don’t want to know. What if he does hate you? “Because you think I'll end up like him…" Anguish bleeds from you, seeping out into the world beyond, a slow kind of poison.

"You will never be like him." The words are sharp, spoken with venomous force, filled with anger, hatred, and sorrow. Sidestep killed his team. But that's not it. There is something else. Another emotion that you can't place.

"No sir. I won't." Your tone is firm. "I could never be that cruel. I could never do those things that he did." A hush settles between you momentarily like birds going silent before a hurricane. Not even a rustle in the leaves. "I heard what they said about him. That he was a monster, a thing created by the government. Maybe there was a defect, a flaw that made him-"

A spike of pain rips through him nearly crippling you, stopping you mid sentence. “You don’t understand! I lo-” He cuts himself off. You weren't expecting such a visceral reaction. He turns away as he walks towards the edge of the roof, his shields snapping shut. He brings a hand to his face, shoulders tense. You wonder what he was going to say. 

"Sir?" You take a cautious step towards him, your voice barely a whisper. If he was anyone else you might be worried that he'd jump.

He is silent for a long time. When he speaks again his voice is tired but calm. “You don’t understand what you are asking me to explain, to relive.” He drops his hand, shoulders slumped as he turns to face you again. Just for a moment you see blue eyes haunted and full of torment. “Sidestep,” the word is almost a sneer, but there is something else there… longing? “took everything from me.” Something that you have in common.

“My friends, my life, my hero,” the smirk is small but cruel, “everything.” He has regained his composure. "But” he pauses, leveling you with his stare, “I understand if you need some form of answers to get closure. If you have questions relating to your father's death, ask. I can’t guarantee that I will answer but I will listen."

"I don't really know if I have questions sir," you pause, not really sure what to say after his reaction, "but, well." You pick at the hem of your shirt. Your nerves spiking. "I wanted revenge." Your voice grows quite. "I wanted to be the one to take him out… it's why I…" You can't say it.

"It's why you took the drug." He finishes for you.

You nod. "I had nothing left. No one." You remember the loneliness, the pain, the fear. "It was just me and my dad. When sidestep killed him, he took all that I had." 

"He would have destroyed you." There is anger behind his voice, hidden, barely noticeable, but still there. "You are nowhere near strong enough. And," his eyes lock with yours, a chill crawling down your spine, "he was only getting stronger, becoming more volatile, violent."

"I know, but I didn't care." Your voice is firm. You need him to know. But why? "Then… before I knew it he was gone and I was lost." You have never told anyone this before, keeping the pain and loneliness to yourself. What's changed? "My whole reason for existing just vanished…"

"I... know that feeling." His admission shocks you. You never would have expected him to be this open. "He didn't care who died," his fists tighten around the railing, knuckles going white as his eyes narrow, "just that he accomplished his goals, and towards the end…" he drops his head, turning so you can't see his expression, "I almost couldn't stop him." Was there a slight break to his voice? Impossible.

"But you still did." You eye him cautiously. He speaks as if he knew him. Maybe he did. Maybe that's why this is difficult for him. Or maybe after fighting someone for so long they become familiar.

He nods. "Yes. And it was the most difficult fight of my life. His telepathy was a whole different level. He could crack people's minds as if they were delicate egg shells."

"But not yours?" Genuine curiosity, confusion. Why didn't Sidestep just crush his mind then?

"He almost did."

"I see." It doesn't make any sense. There is some crucial piece missing. An incomplete truth that only leaves you with more questions. "Thank you sir. For telling me this." You should leave it at that. You don't want to test your luck. Not when the Marshal may still be mad at you.

"If I didn't would you ever stop asking?" He raises an eyebrow pushing golden hair back out of his face.

"Probably not…"

"And you still won't will you?" You shrug sheepishly, a small apologetic smile forming on your lips. The Marshal sighs, shaking his head with an amused, incredulous huff.

“Well then," he pauses looking in your direct as if to make sure you don't have anything else to say, "if that’s all, I will see you tomorrow morning for training.” The Marshal turns to leave before pausing to look over his shoulder. You wonder why he doesn't just fly. “And Tony.” Your head snaps up, quick to recover your lost eagerness. He sees it. You know he does. He sees more than people give him credit for. ”I don’t hate you.” With that he leaves. You think you are beginning to understand him, even just a little. Wait… did he just call you Tony?


End file.
